Cold Comfort
by razorbladesandbutterflyswings
Summary: Starts in Season 7 of Buffy and kinda jumps around from there. It's going to end up being a Spaith fic.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy or Angel. The shows and characters in them belong to Joss Whedon and the WB. I'm just doing this for my own enjoyment and that of my readers.

A/N: Well, this wasn't under my upcoming stories because I was inspired to do it today, after reading some Spaith stuff. Personally, I think that they way they handled Spike being in love with Buffy was sad because the tough badass vamp we all know and love turned into some kind of lovesick whipped puppy…and then he went crazy. That's lame. Plus can we say rehash? Also, necrophilia is illegal (even though vampires aren't technically dead I think it counts, yeah?) Anyways, this is me giving Spike a chance at a woman way more worthy of him. Rock on!

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He found her sitting against the wall in the basement, half asleep after a night of slaying. Curious as to why she'd invaded his domain, he nudged her with his foot and was genuinely surprised when he found himself staring at the ceiling. "Oi! What gives?" 

Faith grinned lazily at him. "Force of habit, my bad," she drawled out with her trademark huskiness.

Spike found the look she gave him as he sat up a little unnerving. Pushing himself up against the wall beside her, he looked at her. Brown hair, brown eyes, sexy body and that mouth that just screamed for kissing…well that would scream for kissing if he wasn't already in love with Buffy. The woman next to him oozed sex, strength and though she would never admit it, a charming vulnerability of sorts. He was dragged out of his study when she spoke.

"Back in the joint, they made me go see this guy to rehabilitate me or whatever. I like to think of it as part of my redemption, cause damn he was annoying but I never laid a hand on the prick. Anyways, one of his things that I was supposed to do was to say sorry for all the bad shit I'd done to people during my 'phase'," she scoffed.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Get to the point, luv," he said, "cause right now you're babblin' worse then the witch." He merely grinned when she fixed him with a harsh glare. He was used to it, after all Buffy looked at him like that a lot of the time, not to mention how Darla had looked at him back when he ran with the Scourge.

Sighing she said, "Fine. Keep in mind; you're a vamp so this ain't no apology. I'm just trying to fess up to the stuff I done, kay? So, Buffy came on to you at the Bronze a few years ago right?" Spike nodded and waited for her to continue. "Said something 'bout riding 'you at a gallop 'til your eyes rolled back into your head and you popped like warm champagne'?" Spike nodded again, shocked at her use of the exact words. "Well," Faith said, "that was me. Mayor gave me some mojo that let me hijack Buffy's body after I got out of my coma. You just happened to be there when I took it for a test drive."

Spike's jaw dropped. That night was the reason he had started dreaming about Buffy. That night was the reason he was in love with Buffy. He closed he mouth and dropped his head into his hands, feeling torn and confused. The spirit Buffy had exhibited that night at the Bronze was the part he kept wishing would come out more. Now it seemed that the spirit wasn't even hers at all, but this other Slayer's. Bugger all, he thought. "You should go luv. They're going to think I ate you or something," he rasped out.

Faith raised a brow and wondered what was bugging the vampire. Whatever, she thought. Standing, she brushed herself off. She walked to the foot of the stairs, and turned to face him. He looked up as she said, "For the record, it was wrong 'cause you're dead." With that she headed up the stairs and into the house.

Spike let out a strangled growl before dropping his head back into his hands.

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	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Not mine, never was. Did amyone see James on Smallville...BOO YEAH

Even now, years later Spike found himself pondering the dark haired slayer. He was about to go into the biggest, and possibly the bloodiest battle in his history and he couldn't help but wonder what had happened to Faith. Had she settled down with the slayer's boy Wood? Had she gone back to being a loner? Had she gone back to jail? Or, God forbid, had she settled down with the whelp? Regardless of what had happened to her, Spike couldn't help but wish they had someone with her fire and skill and love of carnage with them today. He watched Angel confidently heft his sword and say something about taking the dragon flying overhead, but Spike knew none of them were leaving the alley they'd been cornered in. Wolfram and Heart's demon army was just too much for them.

Gun was already wounded, and Illyria was distracted by the death of Wesley, as much as she tried to hide it. Spike knew love's bitch when he saw one and he knew it was going to interfere with staying alive. Sadly he knew that any chance he'd had of running to save his own skin had gone up in a literal puff of smoke the day he'd used the necklace in to close the Hellmouth. He was too much a champion now. Not a poncy champion with too much hair gel like Angel, he thought to himself, but a real badass champion with great hair and a terrifying presence.

The snarling hell demon in front of him didn't really seem to be terrified however. Spike curled his lip into a sneer and hurled himself at it, face vamping out in mid attack. The next few minutes were filled with a flurry of blows, but Spike emerged the victor after snapping the demon's neck. He gave it a kick in the ribs for good measure, and turned around to face his next opponent.

Spike found himself under the attack of a ten foot tall, scaly Abura demon. It tossed him around like a rag doll for a few minutes, giving Spike a view of how the battle was going. Gunn had already fallen, but Illyria was causing massive damage. Spike hit the ground and felt bones break. He looked up, in time to see Angel take a javelin to the chest. Spike felt his blood bond with his grandsire shatter as Angel exploded into a cloud of dust. Involuntary tears came to Spike's eyes and as they burned their treacherous way down his cheeks, he knew them to be blood. Something inside Spike snapped then, and the last thing he remembered before everything went red was seeing a familiar woman with dark curly hair on the back of a dragon.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Not mine...nope nope nope.

A/N: This is short, but I'm hoping the chapters it leads to will be longer. Things are going to get a little hairy for the next few chapters.

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The first thing that came to Spike when he regained consciousness was pain. It was everywhere, it invaded him, it sunk into every pore. He did his best to move, but was unable to do so before the pain caused his stomach to force its contents out. Vomiting out the mess of reddish bile all over himself was his first clue. Vampires, he managed to think through the haze of pain, don't vomit. That was when he noticed it was warm.

Forcing one eye as far open as he could, the brightness blinded him. The sun was shining and he was still in one piece. He was not flittering in the wind resembling the contents of an ashtray. Spike felt a strange sensation in his chest. His heart was beating…not just beating…pounding. He let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. It was a strange feeling to breath, after a century and more of not doing it. He groaned.

Spike closed his eye, and felt hot tears flow down his cheek. He was alive, really and truly alive. Angel was dust in the wind, and Spike had received his gift. Angel's Shanshu. Spike screamed as loud as he could. He screamed out his pain and his rage and his grief at the loss of his sire and the friends he had made in Los Angeles.

It didn't occur to Spike that screaming was a bad idea until he heard the footsteps. Footsteps coming closer and closer to him. Spike tried to still his breathing but, after so many years of not doing it, didn't have the best control. He was disoriented by the beating of his heart. Spike also felt something he hadn't felt in almost a century. Real human fear. Fear of death. Then he began to panic.

As he felt something lift off of him, his panic increased to the point that all he could hear was the frantic beating of his own heart. Someone, or something grabbed him and began dragging him away. Spike tried to fight, but the pain that shock had pushed away came rushing back when he tried to move. Then there were cool hands on his face, stroking his cheek lightly. "Calm down," he heard a woman say, "you'll only hurt yourself more."

Begrudgingly, Spike admitted to himself that she was right. So he calmed. He slowed his breathing and his heartbeat followed. There were hands all over him now, examining his injuries and roughly bandaging him. Spike felt himself be lifted onto a stretcher and then there was a sharp prick of pain in his wrist.

After that, everything faded away.

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	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that appears in this story. I just like to make the characters do what I say. I get no profit from this besides my own sheer enjoyment.

A/N: First off, thank you SO much for all your amazing reviews! So ladies and gents, some of you have asked for Faith to enter the picture, but I regret to inform you she won't be making an appearance until the very end. Fear not dear readers, for Spike has a very interesting story ahead of him, involving rouge demon hunting, cute werewolves and possibly vampire dusting south of the Rio Grande. Also, this is a crossover story with the Marvel movieverses, notably Blade and X-men (don't worry, I'll explain the Blade-style vamps…and any others that may come along). So please dear readers, stick by me. Don't jump off this Spaith ship just because she isn't here. Enjoy!

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For the first month, every waking moment was agony. As far as Spike could discern from the conversations going on around him, almost every bone in his body was broken and he was very, very lucky to be alive. He was also very lucky that out of all the bones left intact, of which there were few, his spine was miraculously in one piece. This had been a great relief to Spike, who had no desire to spend his newfound humanity as a paraplegic.

The people who had found him were good enough to keep him sedated most of the time. By the second month his body seemed to be healed well enough for them to take him off the drugs. Spike did not enjoy this particular bit of his recovery at all. Well that was mostly true. He enjoyed the cute bird they got to sponge off all of his bits that lacked a cast well enough.

It wasn't until the fourth month of his recovery, when the casts were all removed and he spent most of his days in physiotherapy, that he finally met his rescuers. He was walking, well shambling really, when he caught sight of dark curls flouncing around a corner.

Spike felt his heart quicken in his chest. A million maybes swirling in his brain caused him to deviate from his usual path and turn the corner. His heart clenched as he saw someone else's hands buried in that hair, but was more than relieved when the woman turned around. It wasn't Faith. It was a woman he'd never seen before, comfortably leaned into an unfamiliar man with a mocking smile.

"Sorry," said Spike to the woman, "I thought you were someone else."

She smirked and Spike found himself giving her a weak smile back. "It happens," she said. Her voice brought back memories of blinding pain and cool hands. He was struck near speechless for a moment. The raised eyebrow of the dark haired woman's companion urged him into speech. "You saved my life," Spike said.

Her eyes widened for a moment, and she nodded. "You're looking much better," she said. She paused briefly and held out her hand. "I'm Abigail Whistler, and this wise ass behind me is Hannibal King."

Spike shook her hand. "It's a pleasure Ms. Whistler."

King snorted. "Who might you be?" he asked, clearly not impressed.

Spike had to think for a moment. He wasn't William the Bloody, and he wasn't quite Spike, so he settled for something simpler and held out his hand to King. "William Masters."

King shook it and Spike, suddenly tired, bid them goodbye and headed back to his room.

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